


you can sleep (i’ll be your shield in the night)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, FinnRey Week, PTSD, REY my tiny beautiful child, cw: implied violent situations, day 1: trust, these adorable orphans together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how she sleeps: the hatch of the AT-AT pulled shut, a heavy metal strut shoved in to keep it barred, the door kept in her eyeline just in case. Her back against a solid surface, a sharp knife under her pillow. Her staff always, always within arm’s reach.</p><p>She sleeps light enough that she can wake at the first sound. Other scavengers hoping for easy pickings, or a dust storm that might swallow her whole, or (she’s never stopped hoping) a ship carrying people she almost remembers. The last one never comes, but the first two do, enough that Rey’s forgotten what it’s like to sleep deep, to trust in the safety of her surroundings enough to let her guard down even for just one minute.</p><p> </p><p>(FinnRey Week, day 1: <em>trust</em>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can sleep (i’ll be your shield in the night)

This is how she sleeps: the hatch of the AT-AT pulled shut, a heavy metal strut shoved in to keep it barred, the door kept in her eyeline just in case. Her back against a solid surface, a sharp knife under her pillow. Her staff always, always within arm’s reach.

She sleeps light enough that she can wake at the first sound. Other scavengers hoping for easy pickings, or a dust storm that might swallow her whole, or (she’s never stopped hoping) a ship carrying people she almost remembers. The last one never comes, but the first two do, enough that Rey’s forgotten what it’s like to sleep deep, to trust in the safety of her surroundings enough to let her guard down even for just one minute.

“You look tired,” Finn tells her, after the adrenaline of their long-drawn escape has drained away. “Why don’t you get some rest?” Rey considers it. The ship is not in any immediate danger of falling out of the sky, and after stormtroopers, poison gas, rival gangs and rathtars, she _is_ tired. A weariness that says she needs rest. There are bunks on the ship. They’re not her AT-AT, no door she can bar, but she gets her back up against the wall anyway, curls up tight, and the soft hum of the ship has her asleep in minutes.

She wakes up all at once, breathing hard, her staff swinging out into an instinctively defensive position. She doesn’t even know she’d heard a sound.

“Hey,” Finn says, backing away. “Hey, Rey, easy, it’s just- I was just bringing you a blanket, is all.” Rey stares at him for a long moment, the soft-looking blanket in his hands, his careful expression and gentle eyes.

“Oh,” she says, swallows, and then whispers. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” Finn replies. “No problem.” He sets the blanket down at the foot of her bunk, cautious now. “I’m going to get some rest myself,” he adds, “if you don’t mind?” 

Rey doesn’t mind. She shakes her head, wordless, watches how he lays himself down flat, rests his hands at his sides, closes his eyes. She wonders how he can sleep like that, undefensive and unprotected, not even a blaster to keep himself safe. His face looks soft, vulnerable. She wants, a little, to touch his cheek.

She can’t. _Sleep_. Not with someone else in the bunkroom, not with her heart still thrumming from the threat-fight- _run_ response she’d woken to. She waits a little longer, just until Finn’s long and even breaths confirm he really is asleep, and then uncurls herself, creeps out of the room. Her eyes still feel a little gritty with the lack of rest, but it’s nothing she hasn’t coped with before.

She shakes out the blanket before she goes, holds her breath as she tucks it gently over Finn. He doesn’t stir, as if she’s someone who won’t hurt him. As if she’s someone he can trust.

(When he wakes, joins them in the cockpit, he’s still got the blanket draped around his shoulders, and Rey smiles at his sleep-fuzzy face, just a little, just to herself.)

 

After Starkiller, Rey doesn’t remember how to sleep.

“You should get some rest,” General Organa tells her, very gently, but it feels like an impossibility. Rey’s seen the private quarters she’s been assigned - heavy locking door, small bunk, minuscule fresher unit - and those things are comforting, usually, but the thought of leaving Finn even for an hour makes her chest clutch with cold.

“I-” Rey says, looks down at Finn. “I-”

“It’s not an order,” Leia says, even softer. “If you want to stay with your friend, you can. Would you like a blanket?”

She would. She’s discovering she can say _yes_ , to these things people are offering her. She’d said yes before, to food, clean clothes, the question _are you next of kin_? Yes, she’d said, yes, yes, I- yes, there’s nobody else.

“It’s okay,” Rey whispers to Finn when they’re alone. “You can sleep. I’ll take first watch.” He’s sleeping the way she’d seen him lie down that first time. Flat on his back, very still. He’s terrible at guarding his back, Rey thinks, he needs to learn. For now, she’ll keep guard.

She falls asleep at some point in the night, crumples forward until she’s leaning her arms and head against his bed. It’s not comfortable, sleeping while sitting up like this, but no worse than the way she’d snatched rest in bare minutes before she’d saved enough credits from Unkar Plutt, before she’d had her AT-AT. The gentle hum of the machines keeping Finn alive lulls her into rest.

(The blanket must slide off, because when she wakes she’s cold, chilled right through, but Finn’s hand is warmer against hers than it had been in that forest. _I don’t need you to hold my hand_ , Rey whispers to herself, and slides her fingers into his anyway.)

 

Jedi training is exhausting, Rey discovers. She'd always thought the Force was a fairytale, that it would come to people like a magical gift and be just as easy to work. It may be a magical gift, being Force-sensitive, but using it, controlling it, leaves her feeling pale and wrung-out.

Finn slides her a bigger-than-usual bowl of stew and an extra bread roll, when she joins him and Poe in the mess that night. He doesn't say anything, just looks seriously at her face, the shadows under her eyes, and touches her hand sympathetically. Rey leans in against him, rests her head against his shoulder as she eats, and Finn moves his hand down to her thigh, strokes his thumb gently over her knee, holds the conversation with Poe so Rey can take a little time to recover herself.

(They've been doing this for months, now, but it never fails to surprise Rey, that he knows so easily what she needs. Makes her feel warm, every time.)

"Hey, a bunch of us are heading up the ridge," Poe says easily as Rey's scraping her spoon in the bowl for the last of the stew. "Supposed to be a meteor shower tonight. You're welcome to come along, both of you."

"Oh," Finn says, looks as if he's considering the offer. "Thanks, buddy. I think we're going to turn in early, actually."

"Fair enough," Poe says. "Next time, maybe?" and Finn nods, touches his elbow as he leaves.

"You could have gone, if you'd wanted to," Rey tells Finn when they're in her quarters. "Just because  _I'm_ tired-" Finn stops her, touches a finger against her lips, before he slides his palm down to cup her cheek.

"I know," he says very sincerely. "Perhaps I wanted to be here, instead." He kisses her gently, just a brush of his lips against hers, and Rey can feel herself smiling against his mouth.

"Okay," she concedes. "I'm glad you're here."

When she drifts asleep, it's with Finn at her back, curled warm around her, and the heat of the Force rippling easy through them both. Her staff's still within arm's reach, and Rey doesn't think she'll ever sleep deeply, not the way Finn does. The nightmares of Kylo Ren are fading, but ten years of habit has taught her to be wakeful.

She _sleeps_ , though, Finn's breath like a rhythm of ocean waves, like a green island in a blue sea, and every time she does, every time she sinks into it with Finn comforting and solid beside her, she feels just a little surprised. Not at her faith in him, because it'd taken her longer than Finn deserved, for her to trust him, but in his trust in her.

(He falls asleep beside her like he knows she'll keep guard of them both, and Rey wonders if this is love.)


End file.
